


A Young Understanding

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armitage Hux and the terrible horrible no good very bad day, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Omega Armitage Hux, Omega Kylo Ren, Omega/Omega, Soft Kylux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22541047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: While accompanying his father on a diplomatic mission to the New Republic, Armitage presents as an omega. And there's nothing Brendol Hux despises more than omegas. Fearing his father's wrath, Armitage flees and runs straight into Ben Solo.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 28
Kudos: 262
Collections: Anonymous, Kylux Positivity Week 2020





	A Young Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Due to problems with my neck, writing this took much longer than expected. As a result, I had to skimp on editing to get this posted in time for Positivity Week. Most of my fics on Ao3 had been heavily edited before being posted, but this one isn't, so don't expect it to be a masterpiece lol 
> 
> For the sake of this fic, Armitage is 18 and Ben is 17
> 
> Enjoy!

Before Armitage even registers the world around him, he feels horrid, damp sweat clinging to his skin, unbearably warm air trapped under the blankets, and the dampness of the sheets wrapped around his body. His eyes blink open, brows drawing together. The chrono on the side table reads 13:28, standard time. Two minutes before his alarm was set to rouse him from his nap.

He shifts from his side onto his back, cringing at the way the sheets cling onto him with his movements. At how _sticky_ everything is.

Between his legs tingles, subtle as a brush from a feather crawling over one's skin. Why his body feels now is the time to jerk off, he doesn't quite understand. He's in his shared guest room with his father, on a diplomatic mission to the New Republic, in a room that's foolishly designed with floor-to-ceiling windows that provide an expansive view of Chandrilla's glittering, high-rise-dominated skyline. To say jerking off in his bed is a foolish idea would be an understatement.

Armitage sighs and sits up, resigning himself to taking a quick shower before he looks over his speech for the hundredth time; the loosening of sanctions placed on the First Order hinges on his ability to deliver this speech convincingly, and he shouldn't waste any more time away from practicing it.

As he's taking a shower, he notices a tightening sensation in his pelvic area. Not really a cramp—it isn't quite that painful—but it's damn sure uncomfortable, and is surely a sign of no good to come. Perhaps it's the rich Republican food they'd been provided for breakfast. Some sort of fluffy pastry with a disgustingly sweet sauce, and meat that was likely packed with more sodium than he'd need to consume in a week. A jolt of anxiety sparks his heart, and for a couple of seconds, he worries he'll have to miss his speech due to a stomach ache. But those are the useless thoughts of a boy consumed by fears. If he lets them take hold of him before it even happens, he'll get nowhere. Instead, he focuses on showering with practiced efficiency and towels off just as quickly.

Within a minute, he's settled into a clean uniform and ready to run over the speech again.

It isn't an overly complicated thing to memorize; it runs fifteen minutes in total, its points clear: The First Order is providing help to those who need it in the Outer Rim. They're providing excellent education, food, healthcare, and more. The First Order is not interested in taking territory from the New Republic, but is simply filling a gap where the New Republic is neglectful.

It's all lies wrapped up in half-truth, masked by how little the New Republic actually knows of them and how well Armitage can sell this message. The New Republic will eat it up, them being the bleeding heart governing system they are.

Armitage has to stop himself from smiling at the prospect. He's not quite there yet.

It's when he's pacing across the room, going over the inflection of a line for the sixth time when he stills like a ship caught in a tractor beam.

Along with suddenly feeling as though he'd been placed under a heat lamp and left to cook, there's a... _wetness_ in his underwear. That originated from his body.

It's uncomfortable and disgusting and his heart skips a beat, then maybe ten more.

He could deny it, but it'd do him no good.

He's an omega. Going into heat for the first time.

And while an omega's first heat is nothing heavy, usually consisting of low levels of slick and arousal, with slight cramps to accompany, it's the smell that will damn him in the end. The second Brendol Hux walks through that door, he'll recognize Armitage's scent, and the now higher note of it that comes along with all omega's scents. And then... and then there's no telling what his father will do. Nothing that will end with his life remaining the same.

His father has been waiting for him to present for nearly two years now, just waiting for the moment Armitage becomes an alpha—like supposedly every Hux in the family line. He'd been so sure. Like being an omega was never an option. And, well. ... It isn't.

The second First Order Command finds Armitage's true designation, he'll be removed from the military track. Will be seen as nothing more than an object, an alpha's mold to shape and play with to their heart's content, no restrictions holding them back. Fuck the fact that the higher-ups believe him to be a groundbreaking engineer, or that he's been nothing but loyal and competent his entire life; he's now just a tool to bolster the First Order's ranks with new beings.

But Armitage doesn't even have to worry about that. His father won't let it get that far.

There's nothing in this world Brendol Hux despises more than omegas.

The first day they'd arrived upon Chandrilla and Armitage saw omegas wandering about on their own, going on with their day just like the betas and alphas around them, his father had leant down to whisper in his ear and point. _Look_ , he'd said. _This is how far the New Republic has fallen. How deprived and broken their society is._

Armitage had nodded, watching an omega woman go by while she was talking on her comm with a co-worker or something of the like. He'd thought she would've been meek in her demands, or that she would've oozed appeal to him as she went by. He expected her to be timid and demure like the omegas he sometimes saw in passing in the First Order, but she was just ... living.

Like he is now.

Like he won't be when his father comes back from his meeting in half an hour.

If Armitage is no longer an asset to him, if he's nothing but a back spot on the family tree, Brendol will not hesitate to put a blaster bolt through his head and call it a day. Hours after, he'd probably be out drinking with his friends.

Armitage finds his chest heaving. His eyes are hot and blurry. He looks around the room twice—to take in the last vestiges of his life.

He _has_ to leave.

Where to, he doesn't know. He doesn't have the luxury of time to think about it. He just has to leave or risk losing everything. Losing his life.

First, he runs to his travel bag, making sure his spare clothes, toiletries, and storage bank are still there, all while half waddling thanks to the uncomfortable feeling of slick between his legs. As an extra precaution, he dashes to the fresher, gathering up a wad of toilet paper and shoving it into his briefs. Next is his uniform coat.

Within two minutes, what little possessions he owns are all gathered into his bag, and he's out the door, mind full of static and lungs functioning double-time to work through his panic. His life is over. All the education, all the _everything_ is worth nothing now. Shamefully, he finds his lower lip wobbling, tears threatening to crowd his lower lashline and spillover. He keeps having to gasp for air, even as guests and staff members of the senate building pass him by in the hall, staring oddly at the little First Order officer turned omega.

Fuck, this isn't him. He doesn't _cry_. Let alone in front of others.

He swipes at his cheeks, erasing the embarrassing watery paths upon his cheeks and instead closes his eyes and stills himself. Three big breaths in and out. Just like he learned to do when he was young and petrified of failing an exam. In each exhale, he can feel the sharp edge of the panic being shoved to the side—enough for him to think.

First, on how to get out of the diplomat guest wing of the senate building. After that's figured out, he'll make his next move.

On the ride in the elevator to the main floor, he thankfully encounters no beings. It's just him and his ... new scent. He can smell how oddly strange it's become, and how easily an alpha will be able to figure out he's in heat.

As if it can help, he pulls his coat tighter around him.

When the lift dings and the door hisses open, he straightens his spine, levels his head, and walks with a purpose in his step. Past the guests and receptionist, who all stare at the emblem upon his shoulder—or perhaps their eyes linger due to his sent—all the way to the front entrance, where he knows there are taxis he can hitch a ride on or even speeders to rent.

"HEY!" Someone yells, stopping him from pushing open the door.

Armitage turns to the side only to come face to face with an alien that must have at least an entire inch over him in height, and biceps the width of his head.

"Woah, where do you think you're heading?" The alien asks in his overly deep voice. "No First Order members allowed to leave without accompaniment. Can't have you fuckers trying to mess with shit."

Armitage feels every bit of proud air he'd managed to stir up in the elevator evaporate, and with its absence, trembling fear comes to take its place.

"You don't understand," he tries. "I just need to get outside and grab some fresh air. Just for a minute."

"Yeah?" The guard asks. "Tell me more excuses, little omega."

Armitage's face heats, and with it, hot tears flood his eyes once again.

"He's free to go. He's with me."

Armitage eyes snap to a boy about his age walking up from behind the guard. He's pale, with moles dotting the smooth skin of his face, fluffy and soft-looking black hair, and a strong, prominent nose. Armitage can't help but find his eyes stuck upon his face, mouth frozen. Never would Armitage see a man like this within the First Order—his hair is so unruly, and his outfit, it—

"Forgive me, _Master Jedi_ ," the guard bows, swiftly taking his leave.

This boy is dressed in white and beige loose-fitting robes of the Jedi Order. He turns to face Armitage with searching brown-green eyes, and finally smiles. Or more accurately; _smirks_.

"I'm Ben," he introduces himself, sticking out his hand.

Armitage stares at Ben's proffered hand, then back to his eyes. He should be disgusted that this... Jedi, this ultimate symbol of the Republic's strength, is trying to help and talk to him as if he hasn't even noticed the emblem upon Armitage's shoulder. And yet, without this Jedi's help, Armitage won't be permitted to leave, which will ultimately lead to his father finding out, and then execution by his father's own blaster.

Ben finally realizes Armitage won't be taking his hand, and puts it back at his side. "Come on, you wanted to go, right?"

Armitage nods, which makes something like satisfaction cross Ben's face. "Good, follow me."

Armitage trails behind the Jedi, all the while tuning out the cacophony of noise coming from Hanna City to focus on the back of Ben's head.

"I could feel your distress from across the senate," Ben says. "I've never felt an emotion so strongly from a complete stranger before."

Armitage swallows, still unsure what to say. Still unable to use his mouth. His mind keeps deviating to the cramp that's starting to sweep his lower abdomen, and the complete loss of his life as he knows it. Even as Ben points to a dark blue speeder, even as they get in, it's as though Armitage is stuck in a dream. No– _nightmare_. He doesn't even care he just got into a stranger's speeder.

When the doors are shut, Ben starts the speeder, its engine coming to life with a smooth purr.

"You're in heat, right?" Ben asks. "Or going into it?"

Armitage jolts in his seat. He can't believe he was so stupid as to believe someone would just help him. For all he knows, this Jedi could be an alpha just looking for a way into his pants. He wastes no time in opening the door. "Go fuck yourself," he spits. "Find a whore elsewhere."

"Woah, wait!" Ben exclaims, grabbing onto Armitage's sleeve before he gets up from his seat. "I just want to help. I'm an omega too."

Armitage turns his head, running his eyes over Ben's features again like they'll reveal the truth. (They won't). Alphas and omegas come in all weights and heights, despite what his father would have him believe. Ben is tall. Well-muscled. And it's entirely in the realm of possibility that he's an omega. Armitage can't tell for sure though—Ben doesn't have much of a scent.

"You're General Hux's son, right?" Ben asks, checking over the speeder's controls.

"Why?" Armitage shoots back, tense and sitting forward in the seat.

"I met him yesterday. When he was being introduced to my mother with the rest of the First Order generals. I could sense how much he hate me the second he laid eyes on me—but you're not like that," Ben says. His eyes are shining with intrigue. With pity. Armitage can't keep up with their intensity, he has to look away.

"I don't know what you think I'm 'like' but I'm just loyal to the First Order as the rest of them," he spits, clenching his fists and staring at some fancy high rise building out the window.

"You don't have a lot of gratitude for someone who would've been trapped in the senate building if it weren't for me."

Armitage wishes he could fold in on himself; to become a small ball and hide under his bed or in his closet like he used to as a child, but instead closes the speeder door and sits back in the seat.

Ben sighs and takes the speeder up into the air. "Sorry, I was just... trying to help."

Armitage pointedly stares at the foreign view outside the passenger window. It's only now that he realizes he's shaking—and that he isn't sure if it's his heat causing it, or the fact that if he hadn't presented, he'd be giving a speech in fifteen minutes that would've likely earned him a promotion to Major. Instead, he's run away from the First Order, accepted help from the enemy, and still doesn't know where he's going or what will happen to him. He possesses many transferable skills, but they'll do little to help against his status as an Imperial citizen.

"You're just presenting, right?" Ben asks. "I can smell it on you. I presented just a couple months ago. It was a surprise; my mother and uncle are alphas, and my dad is a beta. I freaked out and called my mother, demanding that she had to change it, that I didn't deserve to be plagued by heats all my life. But... my first heat ended shortly after and I was back to myself. I got suppressants, and that was the end of that."

"Suppressants?" Armitage blurts.

Ben takes his eyes off the speedway. "Yeah...?"

"What—"

"You don't have them?" Ben interrupts.

"No. What are they?"

Ben frowns but goes back to looking at the road. "They control an omega's heat, either allowing you to pick when you want to have it, or suppressing it completely. You seriously don't...?"

Armitage shakes his head, his eyebrows knitting. "I... nobody ever mentions them in the Order. Not even in our reproductive class." Surely they should've mentioned such a thing? They'd be instrumental in making sure omegas weren't a temptation, that they weren't a liability if they were to hold command positions.

Ben swears under his breath. "My mother told me the First Order doesn't treat omegas well, she heard so many rumours, but not having suppressants? That's ... insane!"

Armitage's head spins. Why would the First Order omit or outright deny the existence of such a thing? Only— _oh._

"Do suppressants prevent pregnancy?"

"Yeah, why?" Answers Ben.

 _Because our ships and army are in extreme need of beings to fill the ranks_ , Armitage doesn't answer. 

First, he finds omegas living their lives upon Chandrilla in the same fashion betas and alphas do, and then he finds out omegas don't even have to suffer through the pain of heats? Armitage wonders what other lies he's been told, what deceptions he has yet to uncover. He knows the First Order has mastered the art of propaganda. Hell, he was going to deliver a speech composed of lies to the New Republic senate today. He finds himself short of air suddenly, and his extremities chilled.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ben asks.

Armitage swallows, finding it still doesn't make the lump in his throat go away. "I think my father will kill me if I go back."

Silence.

"Why do you think that?" Ben asks, not without an air of incredulity.

"He... he's always gone on and on about the Huxes being a line of alphas. About how dim and useless omegas are. He's _obsessed_ , just waiting for the moment I present so he can brag to the other officers about his bloodline's superiority. I can't imagine he'd do anything other than murder me to cover up what I actually am."

Beside him, Armitage hears Ben take in a deep breath, his hands going white-knuckled on the steering wheel. "Fuck," says, seemingly robbed of an adequate reply. And then, in the spur of the moment, tips the wheel to the side, taking a sharp turn to the right. Armitage scrambles at something to grip, finally settling for the sides of his seat in an attempt not to fall over into Ben's lap.

"What are you doing?!"

"Helping you," Ben replies vaguely, mouth set in a tight line. He dashes past speeders, on a warpath to stars knows where.

"Why would you do that? I'm part of an organization your Republic would like nothing more than to eradicate."

Ben shrugs. "I've never been any good at being a Jedi. Besides, when I felt your panic across the senate building, I couldn't just ignore it; I felt like hearing the roar of a shuttle's engine. Most people's emotions come across as nothing but white noise to me."

Armitage frowns. He's not sure he likes this Jedi being able to feel his emotions, especially over such long distances. It's unnatural.

"You can't read my thoughts, right?"

"I'd have to try really hard if I wanted to do that. You'd know I was doing it, and it would hurt. But I never would. It's not something a Jedi should do."

Armitage slumps in his seat in return, grimacing when he realizes how damp the shirt under his armpits and his back is. He's never much been the type of person to sweat profusely, so surely this is his heat's doing? He'd think about it further, but Ben slowing the speeder and parking it pulls him from his thoughts, changing his focus to the building Ben's brought them to.

Ben turns the engine off and turns to look at him. "It's a café," he explains. "My mother brings me here with her sometimes. It seems like your type of place."

Not willing to seem like a fool, Armitage nods. He's fairly sure a café is a place for food and drink, but isn't entirely sure. The First Order doesn't send him on ground missions long enough for him to understand civilian life in full. To him, one of the concepts that remain most foreign are clothes and food shops; there's no need for such things within the First Order's fleet.

But to Ben, it's as natural a part of life as going to the mess hall for dinner as Armitage does.

Ben exits the speeder, and Armitage follows, getting onto his shaky legs and stretching in the light of the sun.

It's there he finally observes Ben properly. The way his hair turns a dark, chestnut brown in the golden glow of the afternoon, of the way its soft strands are displaced by the slight breeze blowing by.

"Are you a caf drinker?" Ben asks.

"No, I prefer tea."

Ben nods, gives him a once over. He frowns. "Your uniform stands out too much." He turns around for a moment, searching for something, then looks back at Armitage and points to over his shoulder. "Go find a seat outdoors while I go get you something to drink. Do you have any preferences?"

"Tarine tea," Armitage answers, actively trying not to knaw on his bottom lip, a stupid habit of his from whenever he's confused. "But anything else works fine."

Ben gives him what Armitage assumes is supposed to be a reassuring smile and heads into the café, leaving Armitage to stare at the empty patio. There's already sweat clinging to his skin, and his coat is practically suffocating him, so he chooses a seat at a durasteel table in the shade of café building. The cool metal of the bench is like a breath of fresh air, and he relaxes into it, setting his elbow on the table for support. For a minute, he lets his eyes flutter shut, and thinks of nothing. Only the sound of speeders zooming by filter through his mind. He woke up from a nap less than an hour ago and still he's exhausted; more so than he would be after a sixteen-hour workday.

He must drift a bit, because the next thing he knows, Ben sets their drinks down on the table lightly, but not lightly enough to avoid disturbing Armitage. He jumps up, eyes fluttering open, and squints up to stare at Ben, the sun glaring from behind him.

"Tarine tea with a bit of honey," Ben says, pushing the drink toward him. He takes a seat across from Armitage. "I wish I had a place to let you sleep. I know I was tired during my first heat."

"Heats make you tired?"

"Eventually, yeah. Sometimes at the start too. Going through a heat is a lot of work for your body. Why? What did they teach you?"

Armitage looks down at the plastic cup containing an orange-brown liquid, with a straw poking through the lid. Mixed in with the tea are chunks of ice. His face screws into a frown.

"It's iced tea. Thought that'd work better for you, since... you know."

Armitage nods, taking the drink in hand and appreciating the chill that leeches into his skin. But the problem comes when he stares at the straw — he's never used a straw before.

"You don't have those in the First Order?" Ben asks incredulously. As if the First Order is some backwater organization.

Armitage's face turns pink. He isn't sure if it's because Ben sees him as some poor creature to be pitied, or because he thinks Armitage's people are _poor_. And while the First Order is far from poor now, recent knowledge would have it appear the First Order _is_ far behind on some things. — primarily their beliefs about omegas.

"They teach us in the Order that heats cause an omega to lose control. That omegas want only for a knot, and nothing else—that it's all they can focus on."

Ben's rendered speechless yet again. In turn, Armitage takes the straw of his drink into his mouth and sucks. The liquid comes up a bit faster than he was expecting and he chokes a little as it goes down, all while it feels as though fireworks have gone off within his mouth. Never has he tasted something so wonderful. The slight bit of honey added to the tea complements its bitter nature so well, and the Tarine itself isn't the watery version available in the First Order—this tea is pure, bursting with so much flavour Armitage is scared his mouth will hurt.

"Good?" Ben smiles, eyes shining knowingly.

Armitage's face almost heats up again. Being the sole focus of Ben's attention is so intense, yet unexpectedly flattering. "Yes," he answers as smoothly as he can. It's his heat making him act like a blushing child — it must be.

Ben takes a sip of his own drink. Caf, from the look of the insulated cup. He lets it stay silent for a minute, the breeze filling the empty air between them. It's pleasant—cool to his skin, and unlike anything experienced on a star destroyer.

All of this—the speeders zipping about, the flashing ads, the tall stately buildings—are unlike a star destroyer.

"How are you feeling?" Ben finally asks.

Armitage sneers. "How do you _think_ I'm feeling?"

Ben winces, looking down. "Sorry. Dumb question. I just meant... how's your heat? I know the first one isn't bad at all, but I just–" he looks back up, "I wanted to make sure you're doing okay."

Something swells in Armitage's throat, suddenly making it hard to breathe steadily, and his eyes become hot and watery. Nobody has ever asked if he's okay, let alone cared to get him his favourite beverage, or assist him while he's distressed. His father would've simply ignored his turmoil, or just say something along the lines of, _'course you can't handle it, always knew you were worthless._

Armitage takes a quick breath in and out and blinks rapidly, attempting to quell the tears forming there, but it's no use. Ben will have already seen them, and the way his eyes have gone red-rimmed. This is when he'll finally realize Armitage is weak and pathetic, unworthy of his time, and leave him here with his drink, unsure of where to go next.

But Ben looks at him intently, eyes soft, and he reaches across the table to gently envelop Armitage's hand in his. His skin is warm to the touch, the pads of his fingertips lightly calloused, and his grip tight—reassuringly so. It only makes the tears worse. Armitage's face turns a bright red this time, and turns away his face, hiding his shameful weakness.

Twice in a day he's cried now. After going _years_ without doing so.

"I'm clearly overly-emotional," he answers, voice thick. "Too warm, and crampy."

Ben nods. "Those were all problems for me too. Especially the emotions; as Jedi, we're taught to suppress them, and seeing as I was never good at that to begin with, heats definitely don't help."

"But I thought you took suppressants to avoid those symptoms?"

Ben shakes his head. "I could. But it's better to just go through it naturally the first few times."

"In– in the First Order, I never saw the omegas much. They were kept separate from the rest of us unless an officer was nearing their rut or they wanted to have a child. And I know... if my father weren't to... murder me first. I'd be with them. It- it wouldn't matter that I've top grades, that I've been loyal all my life, or that I– that I ..." Armitage trails off, his lower lip beginning to wobble again. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from Ben again, but it's no use. There's a yawning pit of fear in his stomach that keeps growing, and now it's too large to contain.

He's still trying to stifle tears when a warm hand lands on his shoulder, and suddenly it's gone and there are arms being wrapped around him.

"I'll help you," Ben says softly. "I know it's not easy to be an omega. I know. But I'll help."

Armitage feels the first tear finally break free, and after that, it's as though a gate has been broken, and it all comes crashing out. Ben's arms are so solid around him, so warm. The first promise someone cares. He can't help but bury his face into Ben's shoulder, silently letting tears fall while Ben slowly rubs a hand across his back.

Slowly, Armitage feels himself relaxing into Ben's hold on the durasteel bench. The tears taper off, and with it comes a peace Armitage has never once felt.

"We'll go to my mother," Ben says. "She can help you get suppressants. She has the power to. You could go back if you wanted—but I don't think you should."

Armitage pulls back a bit, enough to see Ben's face. "Has the power to?"

And he's sure his eyes go wide when he realizes without Ben even answering him. Ben. Ben _Organa-Solo_. He's hugging goddamn Ben Organa-Solo, the New Republic's darling, son of war heroes Han Solo and Leia Organa.

Ben smiles, but this time it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. That Ben."

"You– but wouldn't your mother rather throw me in prison?"

The false smile completely falls from Ben's face. "Is that what the First Order tells you she's like? Because I can tell you right now she wouldn't. She may have a few questions for you, but that would be it."

Armitage frowns. He wants to say no. It's their worst enemy Ben is offering up as a suggestion for help, but what other choice does he have? For once in his life, he can't get away with hiding this weakness—it's too big for that.

"Okay," he says, searching Ben's eyes. "Promise you won't let her do anything else."

Ben squeezes his bicep. "I promise."

_

They arrive to the top of the senate building, Ben holding Armitage's hand the whole way through so that guards don't bother them. It's quiet in the halls — even more so as they near closer to Organa's office. Until it isn't. 

There's First Order personnel standing outside Organa's office, and their eyes all widen the second they lay eyes on Armitage. Before either Ben or Armitage can react, the man closest to the office door slams the entry button, and the door whooshes open.

"—all I know is that he should've been giving his speech half an hour ago, and that he was last spotted with your Jedi spawn!"

Armitage can't even hide behind Ben before his father whirls around, ready to unleash fire upon whoever dared disturb him, only to come face to face with his missing son.

Brendol's eyes go momentarily wide before his face goes straight back to a murderous sneer. "Armitage. Where. were. you?" he demands, voice low.

Armitage backs into Ben, mouth searching for an excuse to grab onto, but none come to mind. It's while he's robbed of words he can see his father's face change. From rage, to something far more sinister. He must smell it—that sweet note to Armitage's scent that wasn't there before.

Leia Organa comes around into the door frame, brows furrowed as she looks at Armitage, and her eyes softening when she spies Ben behind him, and shoulders relaxing, likely because she now knows her child is safe. Armitage has wanted nothing more for a parent to look at him that way his entire life, but nothing he's ever done has even made Brendol smile.

It's enough for Armitage to say the first thing that comes to mind. "I want to claim asylum," he says, looking Organa in the eyes.

Her mouth pops open, but it isn't her Armitage is worried about, it's his father, who looks three seconds away from jumping forward and strangling Armitage with his bare hands.

"If I go back, they'll kill me," Armitage elaborates. "For being an omega."

"Why would they do that?" She asks, browns knit and eyes shining with concern.

Brendol spits. "He's being overdramatic, as always. We have need of him. He'll be coming with me."

"No!" Ben interjects, breaking his silence. "Armitage told me what they do to omegas!"

"You have no place in adult politics, boy," Brendol says. He sweeps out of the office, and Armitage wants nothing more to go with him. Maybe... maybe he _was_ being dramatic. His father wouldn't kill him. He knows Armitage is an asset to the First Order, and it would be such a waste. And yet, when Brendol reaches out to put a controlling hand on Armitage's shoulder, just as he used to when Armitage was younger, Armitage takes a sharp step back, right into Ben's chest.

"Armitage," Brendol growls. "Come with me now, and you won't face disciplinary action."

"He won't be going with you," Organa says. 

Armitage feels Ben take his hand at the same time Brendol whirls around.

"He is my son! You have no authority!"

"I think you'll find that I do," Organa evenly says. "He's an adult, and cannot be made to go anywhere, much less somewhere where he knows harm will befall him if he goes back. And your attempts to convince the Republic of your good deeds have been less than convincing, we have no need to further this contact. Leave Republic space, or we'll be forced to take further action."

Armitage knows what Brendol will do before he even does it. He closes his eyes and waits for the blaster fire to occur, flinches when it echoes through the hall, yet feels no burning pain. It's like the world is still revolving. When he opens his eyes, everything is still there. Including the blaster bolt his father had fired, suspended in the air just metres from his face, crackling and hissing, yet not moving forward.

Armitage turns his head to see Ben's hand outstretched and jumps when the bolt flies backward, hitting the wall.

Security comes rushing down the hall, and Ben pulls Armitage into Organa's office with him, their eyes both stuck on Brendol's frozen form.

If Armitage were not so stunned by the day's events, he might've gaped in awe of the force and its power happening right before his eyes. But he can do nothing but stand there and shake when Ben wraps his arms around him again.

"I was always right about you!" Brendol jeers, even as Armitage can hear him being cuffed and forcibly taken away. "Useless, just like your mother!"

Armitage burries his face even further into the only comfort he's ever known.

"Stay here with him, Ben," Organa says. "I need to get the First Order off this planet, and then I'll get Armitage sorted out."

Armitage can feel Ben nod.

The office door shuts behind Organa, leaving Armitage and Ben in peace.

"You okay?" Ben asks again.

Armitage nods and moves his head up to rest on Ben's shoulder.

"That's the second time I've ever had someone ask me that," Armitage confesses. "And you were the first too."

Ben just holds him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine Hux joins the Resistance with Ben, maybe meets his father's ship on the battlefield, and triumphs over him
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment! They make me smile like crazy <3


End file.
